


Sex and Sadness

by OneStopMacabreShop (cymba)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Claiming, Crying, Dark, Darkfic, Disturbing Themes, Dominance, Dominant Kylo Ren, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Gross, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Loss of Virginity, Misogyny, Obedience, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pain, Painful Sex, Possessive Behavior, Prostitution, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Sad, Sorrow, Starvation, Stolen Innocence, Submission, Underage Prostitution, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage Sex, Virginity Sale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cymba/pseuds/OneStopMacabreShop
Summary: Rey has raised herself since she was seven years old, living in abandoned hovels and surviving off dumpster scraps. When she turns sixteen, the street life becomes too much for her, so she does whatever she can to acquire stable living accommodations.This ends up being her getting a job at the hole-in-the-wall sex service establishment mid-city.





	Sex and Sadness

**Author's Note:**

> hello this came from my brain and is not real.
> 
> and if you look here on your right, you will find song vibes to the tune of [Sex and Sadness.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrT_NpGVLI4&ab_channel=MadiSipes%26ThePaintedBlue-Topic)
> 
> *army voice* aight squad, less roll out.

Rey's not supposed to be here. Workers have to be eighteen or older, it's in the manual - specifically and boldly stated, underlined; no underage applicants need apply. Rey isn't illiterate; she knew she would have to provide identification, but she didn't care. She'd always been told she looked older than her age, so she'd hoped the boss man would overlook it and let her work.

She sits across from him now in a creaky wood chair while he analyzes her ID. He has a lit cigar hanging from his mouth, ash dropping onto his desk. The surface is littered with burn marks.

" _You_ ," starts Plutt, drawing out the word and looking up at Rey, beady eyes locking to hers, "are sixteen." His voice is gruff, abrasive. The mere sound of it sets her on edge. "Not eighteen or older - like I 'ave it writ on 'ere." He taps the corner of her ID against the applicant flyer before dropping it to the desk. "A sixteen year old girl whose parents are gonna come knockin' on  _my_ door lookin' for their kid." He sits back, shaking his head and taking a pull from his cigar. "Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Not worth the lawsuit."

Rey's mouth is sticky - dry and drugged. She smoked a joint to a coughing fit before coming in, just for some bravery. It's working, a little. Mostly, she wishes the guy would just let her work on staff sweeping or cleaning or anything. She doesn't want to be a sex worker. She just wants to eat.

"I don't have parents," she says, even though it's not true. They're out there somewhere; just not with her. "The only one responsible for me is me."

Plutt narrows his eyes, cigar smoke trailing in front of his face. As high as Rey is, she thinks he looks like some kind of alien. There's a puke-yellow shade to his skin, a chin that wobbles with  _more_  chins. Rey blinks hard a few times, widening her eyes and staring at him. Her drugs really might have been laced with a hallucinogen because Plutt looks like a real-life God-damned alien right now.

"'ey!" he says, snapping his fingers at her, making her jolt. "You 'ear a word I just said, kid?"

Rey blinks quickly, trying to swallow and wishing she could get some water.

"I ... sorry, I'm just ... tired."

"You're  _high_ ," he says gruffly, emphasizing the word. He sets the cigar in the ash tray. "Look, I said we can try you out. If no one's comin' ta look fer you, then fine - have a try or two at it, be my guest." Rey stares dumbly at him, watching lumps of some grey, alien disease boil along the surface of his skin. She might be imagining it, she's not sure.

Unkar sighs at her and leans back, knocking on the wall behind him. A few seconds later, a tall, thin woman in a puffy blue dress opens the door, looking at Plutt expectantly. She looks like a secretary.

"Yes, sir?"

Plutt nods to Rey. "'ow old this one look ta you?"

The woman looks at Rey, and Rey bows her head at her in greeting.

"Hello," Rey says weakly, feeling maybe like everything is swirling too hard and she'd like it to slow down.

The woman regards her, scanning up and down her body.

"She's dirty," she says, frowning a little. "I don't know, maybe early twenties?"

Plutt nods, slightly turning in his swivel chair as he stares at her.

"That's what I'd thought myself." He nods once, letting out a deep sigh. "All right." He sits forward, grabs the arms of his chair, and lurches to a stand. "You can come on for a try or two. See what you can do."

Rey's heart's racing, but she's used to that. This is one of the least frightening situations she's ever gotten herself into. Sex is sex. It's nothing. It's not dangerous.

So she stands, gripping the frayed end of her short, loose dress, and follows Plutt through the door and into the back.

* * *

About an hour passes before she's set up with a room. It's small with not much in it - a creaky, lumpy bed pushed to a corner, a circular green and pink rug in the center of the room, a door off to the side for the bathroom. At the foot of the bed, there's a small window with bars on the outside. Rey tries the latch to see if the window opens, and sighs in relief when it does. Somehow it makes her feel safer.

She's all cleaned up now, hair stripped from her limbs, skin rubbed with scented cream, locks washed and styled like that of a sultry woman. They've put very minimal make-up on her, only tones to match her skin and even things out, fill in her eyebrows a little. She looks like a girl, she thinks, but Plutt and his assistant - and all the other women who worked on her - thought it was impossible to tell she was underage. The ease with which they spoke of it made her think she must not be the only one below eighteen. It makes sense, given how little Plutt fought her proposal.

She sits on the edge of her bed facing the door, waiting for a customer. Plutt took photos for her display profile, and now she just has to wait for someone to come in. It's a discreet establishment in the dead center of the city, hidden away between a variety of tiny shops. It doubles as a beverage store, she thinks. A lot of people come through, and none of them get arrested despite the illegality of pleasure shops. Authorities don't bother with ransacking small drink stores.

Unfortunately Rey's high is wearing off by the time she hears voices outside her room. Plutt's is there and another, the deep baritone of a man. Rey's heart rate spikes, her skin growing warm despite the soft breeze from the window. She's wearing no under-clothes, just a long white dress, sleeveless and tied only with its own material. With the tug of one knot at the back of her neck, the whole thing will slide off. It will be like unwrapping a present. That's what Plutt said. Rey's a present for someone.

He had her virginity inspected, and when the evidence showed she really hadn't had sex before, Plutt was able to up her price by a huge number, something like five-thousand credits. She's been advertised as age-appropriate, of course. If she tells, they'll lose the money, and Plutt told Rey he'd give her ten percent of every buy. That would give her something like one-thousand credits for the first purchase - one- _thousand!_ It's more money than she ever thought she'd have.

And yet Rey's halfway to a panic attack when the key turns in the door to unlock it. She reasonably understands she's not about to be killed, but it nevertheless feels an awful lot like it. It  _hurts_  to have sex the first time ... terribly so. And Rey doesn't want to do it with someone she doesn't want.

But the door nevertheless creaks open.

Plutt is there, short and stout and gross. A little ways outside the room is a tall man dressed all in black, black gloves, black outfit, black mask. Rey doesn't want to be afraid - she feels like it's all she ever is these days - but she can't see the man's face, and all she's imagining is someone grotesque and deformed.

He steps slowly into the room at the pace of a man with confidence. The closer he comes, the bigger she realizes he is. Plutt closes them in without a word, locking the door behind him. Rey glances at it and swallows, blinking hard. The man is still coming toward her, and Rey doesn't know what to do. She has to give in, she  _has_ to, but she's so, so scared.

She fists the silken white dress in her hands and surges toward him to do this quickly and get it over with. The suddenness of it makes him stop moving, and then Rey's on him, hands at the clasps of his jerkin. He abruptly grips each of her wrists and holds them away from him, the mask tilted down her as if he's looking at her face. Rey trembles, eyes wet with tears that she's trying desperately to blink away.

The man releases one of her wrists to slide a gloved hand to her neck, fingers toying with the tie of her dress. Rey's so afraid that her legs are trembling. She sets a hand on the man's chest because this seems like something she should be doing - showing interest. He sighs in what she thinks must be a pleased way, and then he tugs on the tie at her neck until the material is free and slinking off her body, puddling to a heap of white on the floor.

She's still touching him, her fingers bony and frail like the rest of her. It must be a displeasing sight, ribs showing, a concave stomach, sharp hip bones. If he feels along her back, his gloves would meet each of the vertebrae in her spine. Thanks to the make-up, the bags under her eyes are hidden and her features don't look as sharp, but her body has been starving for some time now and it shows. She's not a pleasing specimen to behold.

But she's pretty sure the man can't back out now that he's paid for her. Places like this don't offer refunds.

Despite all that, she feels insecure at the way he appraises her - or rather, the way she thinks he does. Rey swallows, embarrassed of her body - embarrassed  _about_  being embarrassed. She shouldn't care what this man thinks. He's about to rape her. Even if he thinks she's of age, even if she really  _was_ of age, these kinds of shops - these places that sell women - they employ a majority of workers who are like Rey, ones who choose this as a last resort.

This man has bought her, caring nothing for her well-being. The worst part is she can't be upset about it because she came here of her own will.

No - the worst,  _worst_ part is that she's about to be raped, and all she's feeling is shame about how unappealing her rapist must find her body.

"I know I'm skinnier than the pictures show," she mumbles, her deep-rooted self-hatred bubbling up. "Sorry."

She hates herself for apologizing, hates even feeling like she has to. The man doesn't even respond to it, just glides a gloved finger-tip over the bones of her ribs. Skeletal, that's how she looks. Sickly. So maybe this job is good, maybe no one else would ever be able to stomach the idea of having sex with her. Only weirdos who wore masks could tolerate having sex with the unattractive shell she lives in.

He removes his gloves suddenly, tugging each one off and tossing them to the side without looking. He presses his warm, bare hands to her body, fingers sliding up to her small breasts to cup them. Rey panics while simultaneously noticing his hands aren't old or deformed, they're young and broad. She pants out sobs, crying weakly at everything at once, at the panic of what's about to happen, the relief that he's not an old man, the horrible sensation of him massaging her chest.

She closes her eyes while she weeps, unable to hold back tears any longer. She won't ask him to stop, because that's not what this is. He bought her, fair and square, and she knows those are the rules.

So she grabs his clothes instead, trying to quieten her scratchy breaths. The man squeezes her tits, playing with her nipples until they harden. Rey's body responds, the sensation tugging at her core. It's good, she thinks. It's better that her body gets wet. It will make this easier - and God, she wants it easier.

The man gently squeezes her breasts once more before touching her shoulder and turning her, nudging her toward the bed. Goosebumps ignite along her skin, all the way down to the tips of her fingers and palms of her hands. She walks toward it slowly, nervous, but he grips her suddenly around the waist with one arm and hauls her up. She gasps, feet no longer touching the ground, and he tosses her onto it. Rey manages only to turn herself on her back before he's there, curving his huge body over hers.

Rey gasps in breaths, panicking in the quiet room, swallowing down the dry of her mouth. People outside on the streets shout and laugh, their voices drifting up through the open window. She presses heavily back into the bed and covers her face with both hands, shaking her head and trying to distract herself. She can't stop panting, her heart still hammering beneath her rib cage. She feels like she's about to lose a part of herself, and it's terrible, it's terrible because it's like she's giving it away willingly, but she's  _not_.

 _I didn't have a choice_ , she thinks, desperately hoping she's not lying to herself.

The man's clothes rustle and click as he undoes everything just enough to get his cock free. Rey feels it when he presses it between her legs, thick and long and foreign. She clenches as though to keep out the intrusion even though he's not trying yet. The bed dips next to her arms as the man rests his hands there. He slowly rocks through her folds, hardening further with every slide, which only serves to freak her out. Rey's never had anything inside her. She doesn't want to have this,  _now_. She whimpers, air puffing on her hands, and squeezes her eyes shut harder. Spots and colours bloom behind them.

The man keeps sliding through her, but he lifts one hand off the bed and grabs her wrists one at a time, pulling them away from her face. Rey keeps her eyes shut and breathes quickly through her nose, refusing to look at him.

"You don't have to look at me," he says lowly, voice raspy and modulated by the mask. "But you do have to let me look at you."

She swallows, clenching her jaw. It's impossible to make herself say anything to show that she understands, so she just keeps her hands down, splayed over the bedding. There's nothing she wants to see right now, not his mask or his hands or his cock. It helps - just slightly - when she imagines him as someone else, someone she wants. She doesn't know who that person might be, but she can imagine he exists ... she can imagine she's older, and in love, and this man between her legs is someone who she wants to be there.

She cries, still. It's hard to pretend all the way. There's no forgetting what's happening, and there's no denying it's going to hurt.  _"Relax,"_  she remembers her friends saying, back when she had friends.  _"It's not so bad if you're relaxed."_  She tries it now, taking deep breaths and releasing the tension in her abdomen. A large part of her still wants to deny this is happening, urges her to escape the room, escape this whole  _building,_ and just go back. She wants to, wishes she could, but to where? There's nowhere for her anymore, and if she's ended up in this place  _now_ , then maybe there never was.

It's horribly shameful to admit to herself who she's become. It feels like a physical weight in her chest, a wound that stretches deep within to something - something less material than flesh and bone and skin, the place where spirits live. She feels it there ... she feels the disposal of her worth. She's nothing now. She's letting a stranger in a mask have sex with her for money, pretending she's of legal age when she isn't. She wonders if he would stop if she told him that.

She needs the money, though, so she stays quiet.

Minutes pass with the man slowly sliding his cock between her legs. It's not arousing, only awkward and lonely, and Rey's too underweight to be able to get properly wet even in consenting circumstances. Each stroke against her clit  _helps_ , but it's not nearly enough once he's breaching her entrance. He doesn't tell her when he's going to do it, or ask if she's ready, he just starts pressing in. Rey keeps her eyes closed, jaw locked shut. She's trying to keep relaxed like she knows she should, but she thinks she couldn't possibly relax enough. This is horrible. He hurts like nothing else.

His breaths are paced, but they come so loudly as he's working himself into her that Rey can hear it transferring through the mask. Her skinniness can't bother him all that much if he's this hard and ready for her, but Rey wants to focus on it anyway, wants to latch onto that familiar feeling of insecurity because -  _Maker_ , this is it ... this is the worst thing ever, the worst sensation possible, and she doesn't want to be here for it.

 _"Please_ ," she whispers, so quietly her own ears can't hear it.

The man doesn't seem to, either. He gets himself all the way into her body, muffled voice moaning in a long, drawn-out way. Rey pants, stomach muscles tight, and tries not to give herself a cramp from flexing her legs too hard. The man is impatient, already rocking into her with slight grinding motions. Rey lets out tiny, sharp whimpers of pain with every minute tug of him within her. It does nothing to dissuade him. One massive hand clamps around her small upper arm, thumb stroking her skin as he starts really fucking her.

It's not fast or hard, but it's a steady, long movement, and it  _hurts_. Rey cries out, tears quickly burning in her eyes. Her feet stretch and arch, toes digging into the mattress so hard that she actually does cramp in her calf. She jolts around, writhing on the bed at the pain in both her leg and her insides. The man suddenly covers a hand over her mouth and starts to drive into her hard. Rey screams beneath his palm, grappling at his arm and wrist with both hands. He's tearing her apart, there's no way she's not going to die from this.

Time stretches on the way it always does during the worst moments. Rey cries out and thrashes for a while, but then the adrenaline leaves her body and she ends up slumping on the bed. The man grunts and moans brashly above her, mask causing his heavy breaths to warble. He keeps his hand covering her mouth, though loosens the grip once she stops crying. Her body rocks up and down the bed with his thrusts, her face still damp with tears, eyelashes wet and locked together.

After a while, she realizes her cunt is numb. It still hurts, but she finds she can't feel most of it anymore. In the back of her head, she thinks about permanent damage caused by cocks that are too big, and about physical traumas caused by being raped without enough lubrication. Will this sterilize her? Maybe she doesn't care. Maybe she wants that, even. How awful to bring a child into this sort of life ... to give a baby such a failure of a mother.

The man takes longer than Rey expects. She blinks past his head at the ceiling while he pants and fucks into her. She's gone totally dry at some point, doesn't quite know when, but she can feel herself chafing. So she's incredibly relieved when she realizes the man is about to finish. It's a wave of an emotion, slamming into her so abruptly all at once that she starts to cry again.

 _Pathetic little child_ , she thinks, setting her hands on her stomach under her breasts, tears gliding to her hairline.  _Cry all you want. You picked this._

She knows he's coming when his harsh thrusts suddenly stop and he slams hard into her, his breaths strained behind his mask. He drops to his forearms to lean over her as he slowly pumps his hips, emptying himself inside. Plutt has things to stop pregnancy - she knows just from hearsay - so she's not too concerned about what he's just done. Repulsion rises, but she forces herself not to focus on it. If she does, she'll puke, and if she pukes all over herself, she'll only feel more shame.

So she lies still with her eyes closed until he eventually - finally - pulls out of her. She winces at the burn, but then relaxes again, sighing deeply in relief. He's out of her, thank the Maker.

Both he and his horrible cock can fuck off now. She wants to shout it at him, wants to be angry and thrash around in rage. But she's scared. She doesn't know of what, precisely, just that she is, and something's going to go wrong because that's all life really is, just a series of one terrible thing after another. Maker forbid she take any modicum of control over her body. It doesn't belong to her, even though it should.

It belongs to this man who still hovers above her. He bought her for an hour at least and she'll belong to him until that hour is up. He owns the rights to her. The only thing he can't do is cause permanent physical damage, but everything else is fine, Rey knows this. He could hurt her if he wants to, could do anything he wants at all if she displeases him, and she's so,  _so_  scared to. Because maybe for once - for  _once_  - she'll get to have enough credits to feed herself a proper meal.

He doesn't mind her crying, though - or at least, doesn't mention it - so she lets herself weep then stare off through the window into the star-speckled night sky then weep some more. Time passes quickly after that, or relatively so. The man doesn't take off any other clothes, doesn't divest himself of his mask. He doesn't say a word to her, nor she to him. He fucks her twice more, both times softer and more attentive to her than the first, both times hurting just as much. His cum is coating her inner thighs, drying on her skin, but whatever remains inside at least acts as a lubricant.

When he comes in her the final time, he holds her face and strokes his thumb along her sharp jaw line to her chin. Her cheekbone juts, but his thumb rubs up and across it, too. The touch is one of care, feels exactly how she imagines a touch borne of real love might feel. The closest she will ever come to it is this masked stranger taking his pleasure in her body. He got his money's worth. However long he bought her for, he got what he paid for her.

He doesn't say goodbye to her once he's done. He doesn't clean her up or touch her anywhere else, doesn't behave in a manner even remotely indicative of kindness. He slides on his gloves, puts himself back into his black trousers, does himself back up, and turns and strides for the door. Rey doesn't look at him. She can see through her periphery that he doesn't look at her, either.

He raps on the door, which is unlocked and pulled open a moment later. Earlier, Rey would have been mortified knowing a worker was standing just outside. It feels gratifying now, like maybe she's not alone since someone else heard her pain. This will be a common occurrence, she expects ... the screaming and crying followed by complete silence as she exhausts herself into submission.

This is not the life she would have chosen for herself. She tries not to dwell on why it's the one she's received.

Once the man is gone, the door closes again, but there's no sound of a lock. Two sets of feet walk away down the hall, and Rey realizes she's alone now ... properly alone. No family, no friends, no one ... she has nothing. Not even the man who'd been guarding her rape.

She wants to rip her skin from her body, feels like she couldn't wash herself long enough to rid herself of the remnants of his touch. It feels like he's inside her now forever ... like she'll never get him off ... never get him out. It takes her a long time to even try. The sheets are a little damp between her legs, and she knows she'll have to take care of washing them on her own. But then she thinks maybe that's pointless since this is her purpose now ... fucking some random stranger for ten percent revenue, that's who she is.

She kicks at the blanket and shoves off the bed, storming to the adjoining bathroom. The water is on the cool side, and the pressure is far too sharp, but it works for now. Rey wants the sharpness after what's happened, feels like it makes her cleaner, blasts off any evidence that she has ever been touched by a man. She cleans herself inside and out, washing all his cum out of her. She hopes.

After, she stays under the water for as long as she can, all the way until is becomes frigid, and then even longer still. By the time she gets out, she's shivering, numbed, and blue.

* * *

The following day, she has one more man to leave  _satisfied_  - since apparently the first liked her enough to tell Unkar that he 'found her satisfactory', like she was a meal and not a person - and then she'll either be allowed to stay on or kicked off. It depends on how many men she can lure into wanting to be pleasured by her. There have been a few takers, apparently - a few men who have liked the look of her profile - but Unkar's only choosing one more man for now. She wonders what credentials he's using to choose, but is quite sure she'd rather not know.

Her 'meeting' with her second client is supposed to take place in the evening, so she's confused when she's woken very early in the morning instead to a loud knock followed by someone barreling into her room. Rey jolts up in bed, wearing nothing beneath the blankets since they haven't given her any clothing. She was lying on her stomach, but she flips around to her back as soon as she hears the door, scrambling to cover herself all the way to her chin.

Unkar Plutt comes in followed by a woman Rey doesn't know who's strolling in a meal tray.

"Breakfast delivery," he says, lazily like it takes too much effort to even speak.

Rey hides under the blanket. She can't afford accommodation here yet, things like food or entertainment, but she also hasn't mentioned that to Plutt. She'd assumed he would know, given the state of her when she arrived last night.

"Oh - no, I haven't ordered--"

"Take it," he grunts, watching her in that half-angry way he always does. "I know you didn't order it."

He nods for the woman to push the cart closer, which she does without question. Rey grows hot, hands clenching. What a scammer!

"I'm not paying for that," she says sharply. "I don't have the money." As an afterthought, she quickly blurts. "And I'm not having sex with someone for free to make up for it."

Plutt rolls his eyes, snorting like some kind of animal.

"Calm down, you're not payin' fer it. Your food's accounted for from now on. Looks like you've turned into someone's favourite plaything after just one day, lookit you go."

He says it with a sneer, condescending. Rey can barely focus on it, stuck on 'plaything'. Her body is gripped with dread.

"What's happened?" she asks, trying not to cry like a weak child before she even knows what's going on.

The woman sets the strolling cart next to Rey's bed before turning and walking out without looking at either Rey or Unkar.

"Your buyer from yesterday requested full rights to you. Doesn't wanna share." Plutt lets out a hearty laugh, shaking his head and turning to leave. "Strange taste he's got."

Rey sits up, gripping her blanket to her collarbone.

"I don't ... I don't want it."

Plutt stops near the door, waddling his big body around to face her. He lifts his chin and squints, lips parted.

"Don't want what?"

"The one who I had before," she says quickly, almost interrupting him. "I don't want him to have full rights." She hadn't even known that was an option.

Unkar grunts, starts to turn to the door again. "Tough luck, kid."

"Can't you cancel it?" she blurts, rising up onto her knees while keeping herself covered beneath the arms.

He guffaws, turns sharply back to face her.

"And why would I do that?"

Rey shakes her head, swallowing hard.

"Please," she begs. "I don't want that one."

"I don't give a cow's  _tit_  what you want!" he snaps, fat hands turning to fists. "'E's payin' a thousan' credits fer every roll in the sheets with you. A  _thousand_  credits-" He cuts himself off to shake his head. "We're keepin' this one around as long as we can. I don't see what you're complain' for. 'E's supplyin' you with free meals to fatten you up,  _and_ you get ten percent every time he fucks you. That's a 'undred credits more than you got livin' in the gutter."

"He's too big," she tries again, trying anything, but Plutt's not having it.

He slams a fist on the wall and takes one large, threatening step toward her.

"IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT," he roars, spittle flying, "YOU CAN LEAVE!"

He pins her with his malicious glare, silence settling over the room after his outburst. She's already embarrassed enough as it is, feels worthless at having to work at a place like this, so she doesn't talk back again. Maybe she should be grateful; it's a job opportunity, one that's already proving fruitful, and all she has to do for it is ... have sex.

Plutt sticks around until it's apparent she's not going to refute him, and then he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Rey closes her eyes and slowly drops her head to her knees, arms hanging limply at her sides. Her body aches, she's still throbbing between her legs, and even though she tried to wash every remnant of him from her body, she still found his semen leaking out of her last time she went to pee.

The one man - the one  _person_  in her entire life to show her any level of interest only wants to fuck her. And feed her, but that's only so her tits and ass grow so that fucking is better for him. She fumes at the thought, that it's all she'll ever be seen for. She's a body for someone to fuck, and she has no idea how it became this way, how she lost all sense of dignity in herself. But she can't resist the pull of her hunger. If he wants to pay for her to get out of malnutrition, then ... then ... that's why she wanted to work here in the first place, isn't it? Because she wants to survive, and she has no other way of doing so. She's getting exactly what she wants.

Even though she's alone now, she nevertheless feels embarrassed when she surrenders and crawls over on her knees to the edge of her bed. The tray is filled with a heaping portion of food - lamb ribs, creamed mashed potatoes and gravy, roast vegetables, fried onions, all things she's seen before, but has never had. It's a common meal, though, for someone who  _hasn't_ been living off stale bread and partially rotten produce their entire life.

Eating anything provided for by the man feels like acceptance of the situation - like agreement and approval and confirmation that yes, this is what she wants. It's humiliating that she has no other choice. But she doesn't, and now she's  _here_ , and she hasn't eaten in five or seven days. So she buries her pride as she's so used to doing and tucks in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so insecure about this particular story tbh so if anyone leaves me a negative comment, I'm just gonna delete it without reading!! So don't bother!! (please lol)


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